


Stakes Claimed

by Insomnia_Productions



Series: The Rat Revolution (Mat/Rand Drabbles) [6]
Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Bittersweet, Book 4: The Shadow Rising, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mat Cauthon Is A Shit, Nothing But Love For Berelain Sur Paendrag In This House, POV Elayne, POV Outsider, based on the scene where Egwene tries to hand Rand off to Elayne, except; there's a twist; bet you can't guess what it is;;;, no canon ship/character bashing here, we can have nice things if we try
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 18:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20412640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomnia_Productions/pseuds/Insomnia_Productions
Summary: “We wish to speak with Rand.”“He is busy.”“Busy?”“Busy."//Or: Egwene plans to hand Rand over from herself to Elayne. But someone else, it seems, has already staked a claim.





	Stakes Claimed

“Are you sure about this?” Elayne asks, for what must be the hundredth time, and bristles when Egwene rolls her eyes. Really, is it such an unreasonable question? “Isn’t this too… forward?” Her eyes slide to the ground, heat pricking her neck.  _ Just thinking about it…  _

Egwene, walking briskly a few paces ahead, lets out a huff. “It has to happen sooner or later.” She glances over her shoulder at Elayne, and then turns back, almost dismissively. Voice light, she says, “Well, I am going to tell him I do not love him. You and  _ Berelain  _ can do whatever you like after that.” 

The heat behind her neck disappears, replaced with a chill. Elayne hurries to catch up with her friend, feeling tricked when she catches sight of Egwene’s little smile. 

“Shut up.” 

“I didn’t say anything.” Egwene’s eyes widen innocently, but she drops the facade as they turn the corner. Maidens of the Spear fill the corridor, squatting against pillars, leaning beside dim torches, their hands flashing rapidly. A few look up as the two girls approach, appraising. Rand’s guard. Elayne can see the doors to his room just ahead, guarded, as always, by two Maidens holding sharp bronze spears. In spite of herself, Elayne feels her footsteps slow. Egwene seizes her arm, tugging her along. Her voice is gentle when she says, “It will be fine.” After a moment’s hesitation, she adds, “And if it’s not… well, I shall simply have to sit on him until he realizes how lucky he is to have your attention.” 

She releases Elayne’s arm as they come to a stop before the doors, flashing her a small, reassuring smile, before smoothing her expression and turning to the Maidens at the door. 

“We wish to speak with Rand.” Her voice is all cool authority. Elayne wonders at it; this adolescent farmgirl could give any Lord or Lady in Caemlyn a run for their money. The Maidens, however, are not so easily impressed. 

“He is busy,” one of them intones flatly. The other—Adelin, wasn’t it?—shifts her feet slightly, her lips tugging up at one corner. 

Elayne narrows her eyes. “Busy?” 

“Busy,” repeats the first Maiden. Under the deadpan, is there a current of humor? 

Thoughts like whips make sharp lashes across Elayne’s mind; she exchanges a sharp glance with Egwene.  _ Busy? With what? _

_ With whom?  _

Egwene draws herself up to her full height—not much, and especially compared to the Aiel, but she manages to make it work—and purses her lips. 

“Well, whatever he is doing, he is certainly not too  _ busy _ for a childhood friend.” 

“No, he is not,” someone murmurs from behind. Elayne whirls around to see several Maidens glancing away, palms covering their mouths, eyes crinkled at the corners. 

_ What on earth are they laughing about now?  _

Elayne is starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable, but there is a low heat in Egwene’s eyes that Elayne has come to learn means nothing but trouble and stubbornness.  _ Oh, dear.  _

“I am going in,” Egwene announces. There is a twitch of irritation in her eyebrows. “Don’t any of you try and stop me.” 

The Maidens at the doors shrug, exchanging small, barely perceptible grins, and step away. Egwene puts a hand on each knob and flings the doors open. Boots loud against the stone floor, she marches in. Elayne follows at her heels, remembering just in time to steel her spine and put on her most regal expression. She is the Daughter-Heir of Andor, after all. In the back of her mind, a voice whispers:  _ and he is the Dragon Reborn. _ Dimly, she wonders how the hierarchy falls. 

Rand is sitting in bed when they enter. He is not wearing a shirt, but he has the covers pulled up and he sits with his knees to his chest, a large book propped against them. Moiraine said he had been reading too many Prophecies, but this tome does not look so old; in fact it might be the tales of Jain Farstrider, going by what Elayne can make out of the cover. He has one hand on the book; the other rests idly on something just beneath the covers, by his side. Rand looks up as they enter, eyes wide, cheeks pink. 

He opens his mouth. Before he can speak, Egwene is announcing,“I have come to tell you some things, and I mean for you to listen.” Her arms are folded tightly and her chin is lifted. Elayne holds a similar posture; they look down at him together. 

Rand shifts, eyeing them. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Could you step outside for a few minutes first?” 

Egwene does not seem to hear him. “First of all, just because you have those Tairen lords scraping their noses on your boots does not mean…” She trails off abruptly, face going red. Elayne follows her gaze and lets out a gasp, hands flying to her mouth. 

How did she not notice the very person-shaped lump under the covers? 

A thousand voices take up a cry in her head, some shocked, some hurt, most very, very angry. 

_ If that is Berelain,  _ she thinks darkly,  _ I will drag her by the hair to Caemlyn and have her strapped in the street.  _

Egwene has drawn herself up, the glow of  _ saidar _ surrounding her. She plants her fists on her hips and levels him with a dark glare.  _ “Busy,”  _ she hisses. 

Rand lets out a yelp. The book falls to the ground as both his hands come up to press against his forehead. “Ow! What was that for?!” 

“Here we have all been worrying about you,” Egwene fumes, “and you have been fooling around with some– some hussy—”

Rand lowers his hands, a flash of irritation crossing his face. But his lips quirk up at the corners, and Elayne bristles.  _ What is he smiling about?  _

“No,” Rand says, soft but firm. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew—”

He is interrupted by a low moan emanating from under the covers. Not of pleasure, Elayne thinks—rather of complaint. She finds herself unable to breathe as the blankets move. A head of short brown hair pops out. 

Elayne’s eyes widen as the blankets fall away, revealing a tanned, decidedly un-female torso. He is facing away from them, his whole body turned towards Rand, who appears caught between looking—smiling?—at him and looking at Egwene. The boy lets out a yawn and, perhaps taking note of Rand’s divided attention, glances back over his shoulder. 

Elayne watches surprise settle into irritation on Mat’s face. Her mind spins and stutters to a halt. By her side, Egwene appears to be suffering a similar problem. Her mouth opens and closes like a goldfish, eyes widening by the second. 

Mat is the first to speak. “Blood and ashes,” he mutters darkly. “Can’t a man have one peaceful morning?” 

Egwene finds her voice. Slightly. “Mat? But… you… he… I thought…” She shakes her head, brows creasing, and suddenly the cool Aes Sedai authority is gone. 

Rand, for his part, has the grace to look slightly abashed. “We would have told you before. It’s just that… well, everyone at home always assumed that I would marry you, and it was easier to let them assume that than to try and explain… this.” 

“This,” Egwene echoes lamely. 

There is a beat of silence. Elayne realizes she has forgotten how to think. 

Rand clears his throat. “You wanted to talk to me?” 

Just like that, Egwene snaps back into action. Elayne follows belatedly, trying to shake off the daze. “Yes! We’ve come to talk to you about channeling.” 

Elayne doesn’t miss Mat’s flinch. Rand doesn’t, either.

“Mat? Would you mind…?” His voice is gentle, almost apologetic. 

Mat rolls his eyes and sighs theatrically, but he drags himself off the bed and goes on his knees beside it, digging around underneath. He emerges with a wrinkled shirt and mud-stained boots; after pulling each on in quick succession, he stretches his hands above his head and lets out a languid yawn. Elayne watches with rising fury as he climbs back onto the bed on his hands and knees and gives Rand a wicked grin. 

“Find me later,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Elayne to hear, and presses a quick kiss to Rand’s lips. 

Then he slides off the bed and saunters out, flashing Elayne and Egwene a decidedly bratty smirk as he goes. The doors swing shut behind him. 

Rand’s gaze lingers on the doors, his eyes soft, the emotion in them somewhere between fondness and exasperation. 

Elayne takes a long breath, goes deep into her mind, and screams into the void. 

.

.

She sees them, later, in the garden. Elayne is not trying to spy—well, alright, yes, maybe she is. Mat is seated on a stone bench, flipping a coin and catching it, brows furrowing more with every flip. He doesn’t notice Rand coming up behind him until a red bloom is threaded behind his ear, and then he turns around, his frown falling away to make room for a wide, bright smile. 

“How was it?” he asks as Rand sits down beside him. “Did they torture you?” 

“Not too much. I think they will need some time to get over the shock before they start any of that again.” 

Mat snickers at that. Elayne wants to box his ears. 

“I think it was the best way for them to find out. I hope it happens with Nynaeve, someday.” His eyes sparkle in the sunlight. “Or Moiraine.” 

Rand shudders. “The Light send it not so.” 

“Or, better yet, those Tairen lords. Egwene was right, you know. They’re terrified of you. I wonder what they would think if they could hear you when—” 

Rand clamps his hand over Mat’s mouth, ears flaming red. Elayne presses a hand over her own mouth, bracing the other against a pillar to keep from falling over. Lini was right. Absolutely nothing good comes out of eavesdropping. Still, she doesn’t move. 

They stay like that for a moment, and then Rand yelps and snatches his hand away, wiping it roughly on his jacket as Mat cackles. “You licked me!” Rand cries, sounding affronted. “I can’t believe you!” But he’s laughing. “We’re not seventeen anymore, you know.” 

“No?” He grins, and Elayne almost expects him to stick out his tongue. “Do you feel like an adult now, Lord Dragon?” Mat’s grin falters a moment, but returns brighter and cheekier, if that is possible. “It’s just me, here. And you. Just me and you.” He laces their fingers together. “Can’t we be seventeen?” 

“I don’t know,” Rand says honestly, his voice almost too soft to hear. “I don’t know if we can even be twenty anymore.” But he keeps their fingers woven together, and the way he leans in to press his forehead against Mat’s makes the gesture seem like a wish whispered to the stars. 

All of a sudden, Elayne feels like an intruder on the scene. She backs away, footsteps silent on the smooth floor. As she slips away, she glances back only for a moment. They have separated. Mat is yelling about something, hands waving in heated animation. Elayne cannot make out his words, but from the range of almost comic expression flitting over his face, she imagines he is telling some greatly embellished story. Rand is laughing loudly, eyes screwed shut and cheeks flushed with mirth. Elayne catches herself smiling and desists immediately. She sneaks another glance at Mat, then shakes her head and walks away. 

Elayne does not think she will ever understand the appeal, there. But, well, if Rand is happy… she catches herself smiling again, and lets it happen. If Rand is happy, that’s all that really matters, in the end. Elayne walks down the corridor, back into the Stone. Laughter rings behind her. 

**Author's Note:**

> alternatively, this fic could just be replaced with that one vine. y'all know the one. 
> 
>   
Fun Fact: I almost named this fic "Single Choice Early Action". I asked my Mum for help naming it, and, because I'm in the midst of writing college applications right now, she joked that as an option. We both thought about it, and... it actually makes sense?? This has been the Children's Fun Fact Science Corner. 
> 
> ksajhfhjkdsfjhweh I had SO MUCH FUN writing this! I had completely forgotten the whole "transferring Rand from Egwene to Elayne" thing, but the second I read it again, I knew that I would have to base my TSR drabble on it. I don't like Elayne, not even a little, but I did try to be fair to her here - I don't think she's the kind to be bitter if the person she loves is happy, and I don't support character bashing for the sake of a ship under any circumstances. Still, though, it was fun to pull the rug out from under her and Egwene both. They are a little too bossy and possessive over Rand, in my opinion.
> 
> The last scene is mostly the result of listening to "Seventeen" from Heathers 15 times in a row and crying. so. there's that. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this drabble as much as I enjoyed writing it (which was a whole lot). Comment if you'd like (I say, flippantly, as if your comments aren't my entire reason for living), and come chat with me about WoT and cauthor @insomnia-productions on Tumblr!
> 
> School starts again for me tomorrow (first day of senior year... yay...) so this fic was like my last snatch of happiness before I am plunged back into the ravenous waters of the IB. :)


End file.
